the wrong way
luxury ocean liners
crossing the water
full of the indolent
and rich
passing from this place to that
with their hearts gone
and their guts empty
like Xmas turkeys
the great blue sky above
wasted
all that water
wasted
all those
fingers, heads, toes, buttocks,
eyes, ears, legs, feet
asleep in
their American Express Card
staterooms.
it’s like a floating tomb
going nowhere.
these are the floating dead.
yet the dead are not ugly
but the near-dead surely
are
most
surely are.
when do they laugh?
what do they think about
love?
what are they
doing
midst all that water?
and where do they seek
to go?
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
